Hell Is Round The Corner
by sabbe
Summary: AU. One-shot. He laughs. His gray eyes crinkle. And it's fleeting moments like this, which remind me that he's not made of ice like I used to believe.


**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and everything related belongs to J.K. Rowling. I wanted to write a one-shot for practice. I borrowed the title from a song by Tricky.**

The blokes in this club look all the same, really. My friend tells me to flash a smile in their direction. I'm too embarrassed. Instead I roll my eyes. I'm not nearly drunk enough to do whatever she says. There's too much alcohol and not enough oxygen in this room. Everyone here has white teeth smiles and boozy breaths and at least one parent who earns a six figure salary. If you can't hold your liquor then you're a social outcast. This the unwritten rule. I don't know who comes up with these rules. No one does. But it is startlingly clear that I don't belong here at all.

"Granger?"

_Shit. I know that voice._

"Do you know him?" Cheryl nudges my shoulder. "Is he single?"

"Oh for christ sake. Keep your voice down!" I hiss at her.

Cheryl brushes off my hostility. She puts on her prizewinning smile. The one that shows off her dimples and makes men literally do a double take.

"My name's Cheryl. I'm a friend of Hermione's. It's lovely to meet you..."

"Draco," he supplies.

I finally give up hope on making a quick getaway without having to face the former Slytherin.

Reluctantly, I make eye contact with him. He looks...different. I mean he's actually dressed in muggle clothing. A clean suit and tie. He still has a pale, pointed face but somehow his expression is less frigid.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, accusingly.

His face breaks out into grin and Cheryl lets out a breathy sigh. I'm tempted to slap some sense into her. Clearly, she has no clue who we're dealing with right now.

This is Draco Lucius Malfoy. Son of a Death Eater. Pure-blood Prince. The Slimiest of Slytherins.

"I could ask you the same," he says. "I never pegged you to be the party type."

I roll my eyes. "Right. You think because I enjoy reading that means I can't like drinking, dancing, or listening to music."

"Well, you don't exactly look like you're enjoying yourself." He points out.

_Damn him for being somewhat perceptive._

Cheryl cuts in. "So how do you guys, like, know each other?"

Malfoy frowns while I wince at her wording.

"We went to the same school," I explain.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "Hermie's told me so much about Hogwarts. I went to a school in America called The Salem Witches' Institute. Have you heard of it?"

I look down to see an empty glass in my hand.

"Excuse me...I need another drink."

I practically sprint to the bar to order another pint.

_This has got to be a sick joke. What is Malfoy doing back in London? Bloody hell._

I gently massage my temples in an attempt to calm down. It doesn't work. When the bartender hands my drink over, I nearly gulp all of its contents down in one go. Malfoy materializes next to me looking mildly impressed.

"Where's Cheryl?"

He tilts his head to the left. "She went to the lavatory."

_Great. I am living my worst nightmare._

"Where are your body guards?"

It takes me a second to realize he's referring to Harry and Ron. Oh, how clever.

"I thought you were still in Italy with Zabini. How was the Honeymoon?" I ask sweetly in return.

He laughs. His gray eyes crinkle. And it's fleeting moments like this, which remind me that he's not made of ice like I used to believe.

"It's good to know some things never change." He says it as if it's meant to be compliment.

Then I see her. Cheryl is walking toward us like a golden-haired goddess. She is the kind of woman who can glide in high heel Stilettos. It makes me envious, not just because of her beauty but the confidence radiating off her body like a heat wave.

"Why don't we get out of_—_" he starts to say.

"Draco," Cheryl croons. "There you are. Come buy me drink!"

She latches her long manicured nails onto his arm and drags him toward the bar.

_This is it. I am literally in hell_.

Half an hour later, I decide to call it a night. My hair is becoming frizzy again, I reek of a brewery, and the music here sucks anyway.

Cheryl still has a firm hold of Malfoy.

I tap her on the shoulder. It's only polite to let her know, even though she could probably care less at this point.

"Hey, Cher. I'm going home."

She nods in my direction. "Mhmm. Alright I'll call you, yeah?"

Malfoy gives me a strange look but doesn't say anything.

When I walk out of the club, I feel immeasurable relief. The night air cools my flushed complexion. And the streets are fairly quiet now. By the time I reach my flat, I'm utterly exhausted and end up collapsing onto the couch.

I wake up startled from a loud knock on the door and check the clock to see it's nearly 3 a.m. Ugh. I must have passed out for a bit.

And someone is still knocking my door.

"Open up, Granger! I know you're in there."

My jaw drops. There is only one person idiotic enough to knock on my door this early in the morning or late at night, depending on how you want to look at it.

"Go away!" I reply. "What do you want? No, don't answer that. Come back when it's daylight like a normal human being or better yet don't come by at all."

"For Merlin sake, just open the bleeding door. I'm not going to lose my voice from shouting at you. It's beneath me."

I hesitate for a second before letting him in. He looks thoroughly annoyed, which I probably shouldn't be pleased with but I am.

"Your place looks like shit," he says, finally.

"You really came all this way to insult my decor?"

Malfoy walks over to my vinyl record collection. His long fingers reverently brush against the smooth covers. There is a flicker of something I recognize in the intensity of his gaze.

"After the war, you know the Ministry forced me to attend rehab. I hated it. I thought it was absolute shit. Then one of the facilitators brought in a record player and started playing music for an hour every day," he says. "They were the best hours of my life at that time."

I bite my lip. "What did you listen to?"

Malfoy turns around to face me.

"Bowie, The Smiths, Oasis, Blur, Radiohead, The Stone Roses, Hendrix..."

"I never pegged you the type to listen to muggle music."

He smirks. "Right. You think because I'm a Pure-blood I can't enjoy muggle music."

To be honest, I'm dumbstruck.

Malfoy takes a few steps toward me, only now do I realize his hair is disheveled and how attractive it makes him look. I lean into him as he brushes his thumb gently across my bottom lip.

"What about Cheryl?" I ask.

_Oh gods, I'm such a masochist._

He laughs. But the intensity in his gaze doesn't waver, not even a little bit.

"Don't be daft, Granger," he says. " It's always been you. Just you. Nobody else."


End file.
